


Saudade Extras

by Thorinsmut



Series: The Reincarnation AU [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Families of Choice, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, Racebending, Reincarnation AU, Trans Character, everybody's gay, just bits and bobbles to fill out the universe, prepare for angst, sex and/or gender changes, tags added as needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of shorts to fill out my reincarnation AU. </p><p>Chapter 1 - Orum Lindorm is not a Dragon - Smaug's POV<br/>Chapter 2 - When the Lads met - Fili and Kili's meeting<br/>Chapter 3 - Cashew-Chocolate Melt - Dori meets her future wife<br/>Chapter 4 - to the green chicks - Nori and Bofur are drunk and lonely<br/>Chapter 5 - honeybear - Dwalin does things the wrong way around<br/>Chapter 6 - Dwalin's Mama - we finally meet her<br/>Chapter 7 - When Bilbo and Bofur met - there are things that must be said<br/>Chapter 8 - Care Package - Ori gets a package from Dori at college<br/>Chapter 9 - Do it - Nori has a terribly dirty mouth<br/>Chapter 10 - taser - Thorin should probably have known better<br/>Chapter 11 - the courthouse - Fili and Kili change their names<br/>Chapter 12 - the healer - Oin is found<br/>Chapter 13 - the numbers - Bifur sends a letter<br/>Chapter 14 - the boy - Bilbo and Bofur finally find Frodo</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Orum Lindorm is not a Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smaug does not deal well with remembering his past life. At all. 
> 
>  
> 
> I chose the name 'Orum Lindorm' for Smaug because Orm means dragon, and Lindorm means dragon in different languages.  
> I chose the name 'Porphos Seine' for Nori because the latin name for Nori (the seaweed) is Porphiria and the Seine is a famous river.  
> They will be mostly referred to by their known names - Nori and Smaug - in this fic and in this universe in general.

.

Orum Lindorm was not a Dragon. 

Orum Lindorm was not a Dragon. 

Orum Lindorm was not a Dragon. 

Even if he woke up in the night confused by hands and skin instead of scales and claws, confused to be in this tiny fragile body, even if he so _so_ clearly remembered the feel of being buried in gold and the breath of wind beneath his wings, even if he wanted to incinerate anyone who angered him with a single breath. 

Orum Lindorm was not a Dragon. 

Orum Lindorm was not a Dragon, he was a man. He was a rich and successful businessman who took out his anger in caustic arguments and methodically destroying people's finances, not in breathing fire. Orum Lindorm was a man, not a Dragon, and he certainly couldn't call his fellow human beings 'ants' or 'vermin' or 'fleas' and he couldn't burn them when they stood or eat them a dozen to a mouthful. Orum Lindorm was a man, a man with _friends_ who were also human. He had Maria keeping everything organized and offering a sympathetic ear when he needed it. He had the stockholders in his business, willing to share a drink or go golfing – Dragons do not _golf_ , Dragons do not have _friends_ , Dragons are always alone and Orum was not. He was _not_. He made _sure_ he was not, even if he felt like he was. He _could not_ be a Dragon. 

Orum Lindorm was _not_ a Dragon. He _was not_. 

He was not a Dragon because the man he loved was not a Dwarf, and he would realize that eventually and come back. He would sort it out and he would come back to Orum. 

Orum Lindorm was not a Dragon because Porphos Seine was not a Dwarf, and that meant that the only history they had between them was what they had made themselves as friends and partners and lovers, and that meant they could be together. He just had to wait for him to come back, and Dragons are good at waiti...

No, no, he was _not a Dragon_. 

Orum Lindorm was not a Dragon, and the man he loved would come back to him, and then everything would be ok again because Orum Lindorm was not a Dragon. 

Orum Lindorm was _not_ a Dragon. 

.


	2. When the Lads met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili meet. 
> 
>  
> 
> WARNINGS!  
> mentions of homophobia, homelessness, and shitty parenting  
> prostitution  
> a bit of violence

.

He sullenly sipped his drink (what even was it? He didn't care. It was sweet and it was going to get him drunk) and wondered why his eyes couldn't stop traveling to one boy in particular.

And _boy_ , definitely, not man – he would be surprised if he was really old enough to be in here – brown hair in a shaggy mess around his head, too-skinny under his silver mesh shirt and tight silver pants.

He didn't know _why_ he couldn't seem to look away. The boy was clearly not available, the way he was hanging on the older man he was with, sinuously swaying to the music, biting his bottom lip coyly, making flirtatious eye contact as he (unsuccessfully) tried to draw his date to dance.

He didn't know why it hurt to watch that.

He forced himself to look away, drinking his cocktail angrily, so he didn't see what started it – looking back as the fight broke out to see the (god, what a _deadbeat_ ) date duck and the fist intended for him go crashing into the boy's face. His head snapped to the side as he fell, and their eyes met, for an instant, through everything.

In those wide brown eyes he'd seen not anger, not not hurt, not even _surprise_ – there had been nothing but resignation... despair...

“Kili!” Someone was screaming, and

 _oh god_ that was his own voice, and he'd flung the last of his drink aside and thrown himself right into the middle of the fight, what the fuck was _wrong with him_ , he ducked and kicked and punched and he was still screaming “Kili” and “Don't fucking _touch_ him”

The boy had stayed where he fell, wrapped into the smallest ball he could make himself, curled in on himself protectively, and that was _wrong_ that was _so wrong_ he was _never_ supposed to _give up,_ they'd fought side by side to their dying breaths without giving up... and he didn't know where those thoughts were _coming_ from.

He was standing over the boy now, and he didn't have the first idea why, but protecting him was the most important thing in the _world_.

One brown eye opened, and then the other, and the boy was staring up at him in shock, mouth wide, as he stood over him and fought with skill and ferocity he'd never known he had.

“Fili?” the boy's voice was quiet, broken, but he... but _Fili_ heard it through everything, heard it all the way down into his bones, and it was _right_.

“Kili.” Fili answered, and Kili, _his Kili,_ took his offered hand with a wild fierce grin, surging to his feet to fight back-to-back with Fili as they burst their way out of the fight.

The smart thing to do would have been to run right then, get out of there, but being _smart_ wasn't something they'd ever been accused of, was it? They got out of the thick of it and crashed into the quiet of a nearby wall, half-shadowed, laughing, and Fili could see tears streaking Kili's eyeliner to match the tears he could feel on his own cheeks.

Fili grabbed Kili and hugged him as hard as he could, Kili's arms tight around him in turn, and he was _far_ too skinny but he was _Kili_ and that was the most important thing in the world.

Fili pushed him back, kissed him on the forehead, kissed the tears from his eyes before drawing him back in, pulling Kili's head to rest on his shoulder with a little thrill that he was _finally_ the taller one (probably just his boots, but...)

Kili was burrowing into his jacket, holding onto him tight.

“Fili... Fili... _oh god_ , Fili...” Kili was almost sobbing, Fili held him close and rubbed his back.

“I've got you... I've got you... I'm _never_ letting you go...” he soothed, for himself as much as for Kili.

“Oy, hands off!” the deadbeat date had found them, glaring daggers at Fili, a tiny look of revulsion flickered across Kili's face, hidden from the date, and Fili instinctively placed himself between Kili and the older man.

“We're leaving!” the date said at Kili, around Fili.

“No.” Fili was surprised at how calm and commanding he sounded... but then he'd been trained for leadership, hadn't he? Trained to be an heir, a prince and someday a King. The older man was larger than him, but size wasn't everything. Fili didn't have the muscle memory or the bulk anymore, but he was a trained fighter, in tactics both honorable and dishonorable, and there was _no way_ the man was leaving with Kili.

“He's not going _anywhere_ with you.” Fili said, squaring himself for a fight. The man smirked at Kili around Fili.

“Come on... unless you want to wait around for the cops to show up?” he asked impatiently, holding his hand out for Kili.

Fili smacked it away. “No.” He repeated.

“It's alright Fili.” Kili said, and his voice was _wrong_... he stepped around Fili, his smile big and bright and completely fake. “Give me your phone number and I'll call you tomorrow?” He said, stepping toward the older man with a too-flirtatious smile and haunted eyes.

“No.” Fili said again, pushing Kili back behind himself. He didn't know _what_ was wrong, but it _was,_ and he couldn't let Kili go.

“Fili, it's ok...” Kili tried, but it was still fake and _wrong_.

“He's _mine_ ,” the man snarled, reaching for Kili again, “I _paid_ for him, you'll have to wait your turn.” Fili smacked the man's hand away again, as the words finally made their way through his head, Kili going completely still and frozen behind him.

Fili glanced at Kili, who was looking everywhere but at him with that sick fake smile stuck on his face, head hanging slightly as he edged away as if to go to the horrible horrible man and _that_ wasn't going to happen.

Fili grabbed his wallet out of his pocket, grabbed all the cash out of it, and shoved it against the man's chest far harder than necessary. He didn't know how much it was, maybe a couple hundred bucks, who the fuck _cared_ it was just _money_.

“Get out of here before I change my mind about hurting you.” Fili said, voice very _very_ even, remembering some particularly _nasty_ moves Nori taught him and just _aching_ to use them.

The man swallowed hard, eyes going wide, and stumbled away.

“He'll tell the cops that I...” Kili started, voice high with worry.

“We won't be here.” Fili said, grabbing Kili's wrist and towing him, unresisting, to the staff door and _thank god_ his buddy Bethany was the bouncer guarding it. She grinned as she saw him, shaking her head as she opened the door for him without comment.

“I owe you one, Nee.” he said gratefully.

“You owe me, like, _twenty_ by now. I'll add it to your tab.” she laughed, shooing them through the door. Fili led them quickly straight through and out the back door, and across the street toward the parking garage where he'd left his car.

Kili pulled his hand out of Fili's grip, finally resisting following Fili, eyes scared.

“Where are we going?.. and... who are we?.. and how do I _know you?_ ” His voice was strained, his thin shoulders hunched, arms hugging himself as he shivered in the cold air, his mesh shirt doing nothing to keep him warm.

Fili instantly shrugged out of his jacket, wrapping the heavy leather around Kili's shoulders, tucking it around him tight, running a thumb over Kili's tear-streaked cheek.

“You're Kili, and I'm Fili.” he said, quietly, “That's all that matters, right? I'm Fili and you're Kili, and I love you, and we _belong_ together, and I'm _never going to let you go_.”

Kili's bottom lip was trembling, his eyes swimming with unshed tears, “but you... and I... you _heard him_ that I'm a...”

“An escort.” Fili said.

Kili shook his head, blinking his tears away, “...not that classy...” he said, and his jaw was tensing, he was finally finding the fire inside him as he met Fili's eyes challengingly, _daring_ him to say anything about that.

...waiting to be rejected, _expecting_ it, bracing for it...

“Ok.” Fili said, placing his hand on the back of Kili's neck, pulling him gently forward to kiss his forehead again before wrapping his arms around him, putting Kili's head in the crook of his neck.

“That's ok, if that's what you want to do.” he said. “And that doesn't change the fact that I'm Fili, and you're Kili, and we belong together, and I _really_ want to bring you home so we can talk.”

“Ok.” Kili said, muffled against the skin of Fili's neck, his fingers wrapping up in the corner of Fili's t-shirt.

They only parted when they _had_ to to get into Fili's car.

.

Kili looked around Fili's apartment appraisingly, and Fili winced internally. It was so big and _empty_ , you'd hardly think anyone _lived_ here.

It wasn't much more than the place Fili slept. He steered Kili into the kitchen and made them sandwiches because Kili looked hungry.

They talked, somehow ending curled up together on the couch, limbs all intertwined as they talked, trying to remember everything they could about _how_ they remembered each other and themselves... talking about who they were in this life.

Fili was a directionless disappointment to his parents, never quite _good enough_ for them, always drifting, always looking for something, he couldn't quite describe _what_.

Fili ran his fingers through Kili's messy brown hair, “I think... maybe I've found what I was looking for?” he said, and Kili smiled into the mug of cocoa Fili had made for him.

Kili had been homeless at sixteen, kicked out for refusing to be straight like that was a _choice_ he'd made, making his own way whatever way he could. Trying to pull his life together, hoping, somehow, to get into college.

He said it simply, plainly, and it hurt Fili all the way through. He hid his face on Kili's collarbone and held onto him so tight he complained he couldn't breathe and Fili had to consciously loosen his grip.

It got late, and Fili had to wash the metallic silver/blue dye out of his hair to be 'professional' for work in the morning... and maybe he was a lot more tired than he though because he didn't quite know how it happened – he told Kili he had to take a shower, and Kili asked if _he_ could take a shower too, and then they were in the shower. Together. and that was not part of any plan of Fili's, but it was nice to have Kili scrubbing the dye out of his hair for him, and he washed Kili's back for him, and it didn't seem weird at all.

“Is this weird?” he asked, resting his forehead against Kili's as the warm water rushed over them.

“I don't... _think_ so...” Kili answered, clearly thinking it over, and Fili rubbed noses with him and turned the water off.

They were drying off, wrapped in big towels, Fili going to get a shirt to lend to Kili, when Fili noticed him looking toward the front door.

“Don't go.” he said, desperately, the words falling out of him without conscious thought at the same time Kili said.

"Can I stay?”, all begging brown eyes, as if Fili could ever say 'no' to him. He laughed, pulling Kili in close for a hug.

“Look at the pair of us.” he said, “Come on.”

It was only after they'd both settled into Fili's bed, wrapped around each other even though the bed was big enough that they wouldn't have to, that Fili wondered if he should have offered Kili the couch... but...

No, _god no_ , the thought of having Kili so far away was _painful_. He tightened his grip. Kili nuzzled against his chest.

“You said it was ok if I wanted to... what if I don't want to anymore?” Kili said, so quiet Fili almost didn't hear him, and it took him a moment to realize what Kili was talking about.

“Then you don't have to.” Fili said, kissing the top of his messy hair.

“I don't have a lot of _luck_ finding other work... If I _don't,_ how am I going to pay for...” Kili's back was tight, and Fili rubbed it gently.

“I'll help you find work.” he soothed, “I'll help you with anything you need. You don't _ever_ have to do that again, if you don't want to. We're Fili and Kili, we'll take care of each other, we... I _think_ we always have... You can stay with me, there's room for you here, if you want...” and he'd meant in his big empty apartment, but maybe he'd meant in his bed, or here in his arms, and Kili nuzzled against his chest, over his heart, and yeah, that was big and empty and had room for him too.

“Fili and Kili.” Kili said, and Fili could feel his smile against his skin.

“Together.” Fili said, and that was right.

Fili and Kili were together, and everything was going to be alright.

They fell asleep together, two boys holding on tight to each other against the world. 

.


	3. Cashew-Chocolate Melt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dori met her future wife.
> 
> Dori/OC cuteness.

.

The woman ducked around the corner into the little kitchenette, pressing herself flat against the wall, eyes squeezed closed tight as she bit her lips, breath shaky.

She clearly didn't realize Dori was there. (hmm... when did the name she wore in her dreams start to feel more true than her real name?) 

Dori held out a cookie to her, “Here.” she said. The woman jumped with her whole body, like frightened baby deer, flailing with the same kind of long-limbed awkwardness, landing wide-eyed on the brink of fight-or-flight. 

Dori smiled, trying to look as harmless as possible. 

“Oh I'm so sorry!” the woman gasped, “No one's ever in here, I didn't realize, I'm sorry, I'll go...” 

“At least take the cookie.” Dori said softly, “You look like you could use it... and I don't mind the company if you'd like to stay.” 

“Oh...” the woman put her hand over her heart, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, “Thank you.” she accepted the cookie, and Dori gently guided the taller woman by the elbow to sit down just out of the way, giving her a glass of water before she went back to arranging cookie platters, keeping an eye on the poor dear. She was all sharp bones and awkward angles, like a teenager who hadn't quite grown into themselves yet. She'd clearly tried to de-emphasize it with her plain business-casual clothes in all soft neutrals... She'd done a good job of it, but perhaps gone bit too far - she was just _dieing_ for a splash of color to liven it up. She reminded Dori of a dusty brown sparrow, perched on the barstool as though she would fly away at any moment.

Those doe-eyes went wide as she finally composed herself enough to take a bite, making a little moaning sound in her throat and then turning bright red as she realized what she'd done. 

“Cashew-Chocolate Melt cookies.” Dori said proudly, “Or, as my galfriends call them, Sex In A Cookie. My own secret recipe.” 

The woman tittered at the name, blushing harder, but at least she no longer looked like she was about to run away. She finished the cookie and licked the crumbs from her long slender fingers for good measure. 

Dori handed her another cookie, Orange Spice Crackle. 

“Um... I'm Alfi.” The woman said, accepting the cookie. 

“Dori.” Dori introduced, quickly turning back to the cookies to cover her surprise that she'd used her dream-name. She hadn't meant to, but she didn't want to correct herself either. “So what brings you to the kitchen, Alfi?” 

“Running away from the office party.” Alfi sighed, slumping awkwardly, “I'm not good with _so many_ people all at once.” 

Dori made a sympathetic sound, putting the finishing touches on the last tray. 

“I was doing ok until I overheard...” Alfi sniffled slightly, “It shouldn't _bother_ me so much, I've _always been_ plain... and I wish I didn't have this stupid _crush_ , and I heard her saying...” 

“No... sweetheart...” Dori rubbed her back soothingly, “You deserve better than that. Don't let _anyone_ tell you you're plain.” 

Alfi looked skeptical, but she was also leaning into Dori's touch. Dori was a bit surprised at herself – she was a very tactile person, naturally, but she usually knew someone a bit better before she got so handsy. There was just _something_ about Alfi that brought out all her latent mother-hen instincts. 

“...but I _am_ plain...” Alfi said, quietly. 

“Nonsense.” Dori said, lifting the younger woman's chin to look her full in the face. It's true her bones were a bit strong for classic 'pretty', but she was not plain, “You are _far_ too striking to be anything like _plain_.” 

Alfi's bottom lip trembled, and Dori nodded to herself, smiling. She had _just_ the thing in her bag. 

“I know what you need.” Dori said, turning to rummage in her big purse, finding the scarf she'd bundled in there a week ago and forgotten to ever take back out. Oh, yes, it _was_ perfect. She looped the shiny maroon silk around the younger woman's neck, tying it so it fell in ruffles down the front of her outfit. 

“This is hand-woven Thai silk.” Dori said, “It was never quite right for me – you'll want to tuck the ends into your jacket. There...” she smiled, dabbing gently at Alfi's eyes with a tissue. “That's put some color in your cheeks.” She stepped back to admire how the scarf had brought out the warmth in the entire outfit. 

“I... thank you, but... are you sure?” Alfi's fingers stroked the smooth silk, her expression a mix of worry and longing as she looked down at the scarf. 

“Absolutely.” Dori assured her, picking up two cookie trays, “It looks _so much_ better on you – pair it with some gold jewelry and you'll be the belle of the ball... help me carry these to office five?” 

“Oh!” Alfi looked startled, “But office five is where _my_ party is.” 

“Perfect.” Dori smiled, handing her a tray, “You can be the hero who brought the cookies!” She gestured Alfi ahead of her, “Beauty before Age.” 

Alfi made a disbelieving little huff at that, but there was a very fetching pink blush high on her cheeks as she led the way. 

There was some cheering when the cookies arrived, Alfi ducking and smiling as she was praised for having found the cookies. Dori arranged them and slipped away, her job done. 

Alfi caught her in the hallway, fidgeting with her hands, biting her lip a little as she shuffled her feet. 

“I just... I wanted to say thank you?” she said, reaching out to squeeze Dori's hand and leaning down to press a peck to her cheek before darting away. 

Long-limbed awkward bumbling shouldn't be _that_ adorable, Dori mused, as she inspected the piece of paper Alfi had pressed into her hand. 

It was a business card for a certain Ms Alfreida Elbe, the cellphone number underlined, and scrawled across the back “Lunch Sometime?”. 

Dori chucked as she tucked it safely into her pocket. She'd never hear the end of it from the gals, capturing innocents with the seductive power of her baked goods... but Alfi was such a _sweet_ little thing... 

She would have be careful not to lead her on, but it was just _lunch._

One little lunch couldn't hurt anything. 

. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baked goods _are too_ seductive! I once proposed to someone because of cookies....   
>  Actually, I informed her that I was going to marry her and let her be my sugar mama and bake me cookies all day. She just laughed at me. 
> 
> The proven seductive powers of baked goods aside, those of you familiar with my Axe-verse probably recognize Nethanu in Alfi... who's name, by the way, means "elf elf". I am so creative that way. Probably her middle name is 'willow' or 'salix' or some other tree name so her name is 'elf, wood elf' like James Bond.   
> Anyway. Dori and Nethanu are a ship of cuteness and I love them to death, but if you're not familiar with Nethanu then Alfi is just an OC Dori knew and loved in her past life. 
> 
> Also, the scarf is modeled after one mailed to me by the ever-lovely missmaladicta of Tumblr. It is my favorite scarf.


	4. to the green chicks!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set before Dwalin or Bilbo were found, Nori and Bofur console each other. 
> 
>  
> 
> Contains - drunkenness, drunken conversations, drunk kissing, drunk cuddling, drunken panphobia (or more accurately, drunken misunderstanding of what pansexuality is), drunken tv show references, and drunken loneliness.  
> Did I mention the drunkenness?

.

Nori figured that the strong Belgian beer he'd brought over to share with Bofur on his way through town was maybe _stronger_ than either of them had realized when Bofur kissed him.

They'd been sitting on Bofur's couch, reminiscing about their other lives, when Nori suddenly had a faceful of warm rough lips and scratchy stubble.

It wasn't a _terrible_ kiss, as far as drunken kisses went, and it was tempting – he liked Bofur and it had been _a while_ for Nori – but as soon as the thought crossed his mind he knew sober-Nori would kick him for it, and Bofur wouldn't appreciate it either. They were better as friends. Neither of them was what the other one really wanted. It wasn't right and he pushed gently back on Bofur's shoulders.

He went easily, blinking owlishly at Nori, his eyes sad.

“That was a bad idea.” he said, “We shouldn't do that.”

“Yeah.” Nori agreed, and Bofur slumped into him with a sigh.

“I just _miss_ him.” Bofur said at the general vicinity of Nori's sternum.

“So do I.” Nori said, speaking for his own still-missing love. “We'll find them, we _have_ to.”

Bofur reached for another beer, then thought better of it and grabbed a bottle of water instead.

“What if he doesn't _want_ me anymore?” Bofur asked morosely, “What if he's married to someone else, the way _you_ almost were?”

“I can't imagine _anyone_ I wouldn't leave for Dwalin.” Nori mused.

“What if he's got a _family_?” Bofur agonized, “I don't _want_ to be a homewrecker! His wife and kids are gonna _hate_ me...”

Given Bilbo's aversion to that sort of domesticity the _last_ time around, Nori didn't think it was very likely.

“What if he's not a _man_ this time around, like Dori and Ori?” Nori asked, and Bofur sat up to gape at him, surprised, for a moment before he shrugged.

“He'd still be _Bilbo,_ though.” he said, nodding to himself, “As long as Bilbo's Bilbo, then I'll love him. Or her. What about you? What if Dwalin's a lady this time?”

Nori shrugged, tipping the last few drops from his bottle into his mouth, “I'm pan. Makes no difference.”

Bofur gave him a look that was eloquent in it's confusion.

“Pan. Pansexual.” Nori said, sighing when that didn't seem to clear it up, “It means I'm happy to fuck anybody that consents – and let me tell you, I'm _very_ upset that that only includes humans.”

Bofur wrinkled his nose, pointing a weaving finger at Nori, “Should I be worried about protecting the honors of sheep from you?”

Nori rolled his eyes, Bofur was clearly too drunk to be having this conversation, “Think less barnyard, more _star trek_.” he suggested.

Bofur's brow cleared and he chuckled, poking Nori, “Heh... Captain Kirk.” he said. “You want the green chicks.”

Nori considered making the case for Captain Jack Harkness, but that was probably a bit obscure for Bofur.

“If the green chick is Dwalin, yeah.” he said.

Bofur slumped back against Nori, arranging them into a sloppy approximation of spoons, discarding his half-empty bottle of water for another beer, handing one to Nori too.

“Can Bilbo be the other green chick?” Bofur asked.

“Sure.” Nori said.

“I wouldn't even _mind_.” Bofur said. “Bilbo would be an _adorable_ green chick, all cuddly and soft... You know that's the thing I miss most? Not the sex or anything, just cuddling, and cooking, and talking... just _Bilbo_.” he sighed.

“...yeah...” Nori agreed, even though he missed the sex, he missed getting fucked _so much_ , but if that's all he wanted he could get it pretty much anywhere. If that's all he wanted he wouldn't have pushed Bofur away. He wanted sex and _Dwalin_ , and he wanted the person he was getting drunk-cuddled on the couch by to be Dwalin, and he wanted the person kissing him to be Dwalin.

“To the green chicks!” Bofur said, raising his bottle for a toast. Nori clinked his against Bofur's and rearranged his leg so it didn't fall asleep under the other man.

“To the green chicks.” Nori said, “We'll find them.”

They had to find them.

.


	5. honeybear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin does things the wrong way around. 
> 
> This is set just after the Nori/Dwalin chapter, from Dwalin's perspective. 
> 
> -warning for infidelity-

.

Dwalin kissed Nori one last time, pinning the smaller man against the side of the shuttle-bus that was taking him away and ravaging his mouth until he was making satisfying whimpering noises before releasing him. Nori swayed, eyes wide and his previously immaculate suit appropriately rumpled, looking like he'd like nothing better than to drag Dwalin back up to his hotel room for another round.

“I am not waiting for you all day.” The shuttle driver shouted in a clipped Indian accent, “I will not hesitate to leave without you.”

Nori smiled that smile that was so different and so the same, picking up the bag of all his worldly belongings (always the same Nori, always homeless, rich businessman living out of a series of hotels, what are you running from _this_ time?) and scampering up the step into the shuttle.

“I'll come back through as soon as I can.” He called back as the shuttle began to move. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Dwalin wasn't sure he'd been heard. He stood on the curb and watched until the shuttle's lights had disappeared in the early morning traffic and the dark.

He brought out his phone and braced himself before calling the first number on his speed-dial. He had to do it, though, best get it over as quickly as possible – like a bandaid.

“ _Hey honeybear...”_ Dwalin flinched from the endearment, _“You off early tonight?”_

“Yeah.” he said, “I'll pick you up when you get off work. We need to talk. You off at the usual time?”

“ _...yes... is something wrong?”_ the voice sounded a little worried.

“I'll see you soon.” Dwalin said.

“ _Honeybear?”_ the voice was even more worried now, _“Sweetheart? What's going on?”_

“I don't want to do this over the phone.” he said. There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line.

“I'll see you in...” he checked the time quickly, “I'll see you in twenty.”

“ _I love you?”_ the voice said, small and plaintive, all but begging him to say the same.

“bye.” he said, hanging up, feeling like the worlds biggest asshole. _Everything_ about this was going to suck... at least he hadn't moved in with much more than a toothbrush and a change of clothes, most of his stuff was still at his own place so even if his things were destroyed in a fit of rage (which he admittedly deserved), he'd be alright.

He shouldn't have done it. He was always careful to end a relationship _before_ starting another. Always... but it had been _Nori_ , and he'd only had a few hours and...

Excuses did not excuse it.

His phone beeped and Dwalin braced himself before checking it, not wanting to see a tearful text. The only thing worse than watching someone cry was being the cause of it.

He smiled slightly as he saw it was from Nori.

“ _I miss you already”_

Bad as it was going to be, he knew he was doing the right thing. They hardly knew each other, and he knew they were both holding secrets from each other, but he  _knew_ that having Nori now-and-then when he passed through would be better than having _anyone_ else whenever he wanted.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are not alone if you feel like smacking Dwalin upside the head.


	6. Dwalin's Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She didn't _want_ to like Nori.
> 
> Timeline-wise, this fits between chapters 5 and 6 of Saudade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to albhedryu of Tumblr for suggesting Marcus for Dwalin's given name. Apparently it means 'hammer'.  
> Thanks also to Nokisuu of Tumblr for suggesting Savannah Plum for a name for a kick-ass Vegas drag queen.

.

She didn't want to like Nori. 

She was _fully prepared_ not to like him and to be polite anyway, because her boy had asked her to. Her Marcus had held her hand and turned those big brown eyes on her and he might be well over six feet of solid muscle and don't-fuck-with-me attitude but he was still her baby boy and he hadn't forgotten that she was weak to his puppy eyes. 

“Have you ever met someone and felt like you'd been waiting for them your whole life?” he'd asked her, and she smacked him gently upside the head and told him there was no such thing as soulmates. 

She didn't want to like Nori. _Nori_ had broken Marcus and Daniel up, and she _liked_ Daniel. His Miss Savannah Plum persona was the closest her boy was ever likely to give her to a daughter-in-law. She'd enjoyed how they could talk makeup and clothes and shoes, and sometimes lingerie too to embarrass Marcus, which was always fun. Miss Savannah Plum was fierce and funny and sassy, and Daniel was a real sweetheart. 

Her boy had been _happy_ with Daniel, but then Nori had broken them up. She didn't know _why_ Marcus wanted to take up with some white-collar white boy who was just looking for a Vegas thrill whenever he was passing through when he'd had a nice boy like _Daniel_. 

Nori didn't even pass through Vegas all that _often_ , either, and usually only very short visits. He'd been doing his odd long-distance thing with her boy for almost a _year_ before they'd finally gotten all their schedules to sync up so she could even meet him. Nori was unpredictable and she _hated_ to see her son pulled along on a string just waiting on him. 

She didn't _want_ to like Nori... but she peeked out through the living room curtain and that was harder than she'd expected. 

Maybe it was the way Nori looked up at Marcus as they got out of the car, like he was the best thing he'd ever seen. Maybe it was the way her boy looked back, his eyes all soft and happy as he unnecessarily straightened Nori's clothes. Nori tried to steal the car keys but her boy easily held them out of reach, giving him a stern look, and Nori subsided with a laugh. 

Nori looked nervous, glancing toward the house and then back at Marcus, who seemed to say something reassuring as he led him toward the door. 

They were almost to the door when Nori smiled the most mischievous smile she'd ever seen on a grown man's face – laughing as he darted back toward the car, stolen car keys held triumphantly aloft. 

“Thief!” Marcus roared and tackled him into the grass, both of them tumbling across the lawn as they wrestled for the keys. Nori held up surprisingly well for being so much smaller, squirreley little thing slipping out of Marcus' grasp, but inevitably he was pinned beneath her son, both of them grass-stained and breathing hard and grinning at each other like they were the only people in the world. 

They kissed briefly, and then her boy casually picked Nori up, slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes to carry him to the door. 

“You're _not_ getting out of meeting my mama.” Marcus said firmly while Nori halfheartedly struggled and laughed. The smaller man began to struggle seriously as they got close to the door. 

“No, no, no, not like _this_...” Nori pleaded, and her boy put him down on the doorstep, brushing some of the grass off of him and resting their foreheads together. 

“You don't _have_ to, if you really don't want to.” her son said, quietly, “But she's my _Mama_ , I love her and I want you to...” 

“I know.” Nori said, squaring himself and nodding. Her son smiled all soft-eyed at him again before knocking on the door and letting himself in. 

“Mama!” He called as he came in, and she met him with her arms folded and an eyebrow raised. 

“Wrestling in the lawn?” she said, “Are you ten years old?” 

“ _He_ started it.” Marcus said, fake defensive, and they both laughed as they hugged. 

“Mama... this is Nori.” her son said, putting a hand on Nori's back to bring him forward, pride in his voice as he smiled down at the small man. 

“Pleased to meet you, ma'am.” Nori said, reaching forward to give her a good firm handshake with a big smile. 

She hadn't wanted to like Nori, she really hadn't, but she wasn't sure she'd ever seen her boy like _this_ with someone, and he seemed to like Marcus just as much. They had an undeniable chemistry, and anyone who could get her boy to laugh and rough-house so unselfconsciously _had_ to be good in her books. 

“Please, call me Mama, everyone does.” She said, leading the way to the kitchen, “Come on, dinner's almost done – Marcus you can mash the potatoes, and add _plenty_ of butter – that boy's as skinny as a bean, have you been feeding him _at all_ or do you just keep him tied to the bed?” 

“ _Mama!”_ her son was shocked, but Nori was laughing as they washed their hands at the sink, clearly he was expecting to help too – another good mark for him. 

Nori bumped his shoulder against her son, “you, me, Elvis, a pink corvette...” he grinned. 

“...Nori...” Marcus' tone was a warning. 

“What's this?” she asked, and Nori turned his smile back to her. 

“He wouldn't marry me until you told me to call you 'Mama'.” He said, “I'm thinking classic Vegas drive-through wedding – Elvis impersonator, you know...” 

“You _proposed?_ ” She thought she could be forgiven for her surprise, her boy hadn't _mentioned_ that. 

Nori looked up at Marcus, that look like her son was the best thing he'd ever seen, “Within hours of meeting him.” he said. 

“No.” she decided, and both her son and Nori looked at her with worry, Marcus freezing with the dishtowel in his hands like he was afraid she'd tell him they couldn't marry. 

“No.” she said, “If you're getting married to my boy, you're going to have a _real_ wedding.” 

“You've doomed us now.” Marcus groaned, giving Nori a small shove, and she smiled as she watched them tease and lightly argue with each other as they helped get dinner all set. 

She hadn't wanted to like Nori, but she couldn't really help it with how much he and her boy liked each other. 

.


	7. When Bilbo and Bofur met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things that need to be said. 
> 
> !!!!!WARNINGS!!!!!  
> This chapter contains a trans* person outing themselves, mentions of body dysphoria, and is written from the brain of a trans person who is nervous about how things will be taken.  
> situations reminiscent of soulmates.  
> This chapter may be triggering.  
> Read with caution.

.

Bilbo looked through the windshield of his rental car at the bike shop's cheerful sign and tried to breathe. 

The sign was tilted, with big unevenly-sized letters, there were gorgeous and unusual bikes lined up in the big windows, and it was just _Bofur_ all over. 

Bilbo wanted to run in and meet him, his Bofur he hadn't seen in a lifetime. All those years of missing something and not knowing what (who) it was, finally over... 

He wanted to run away. 

If Nori hadn't already paid for everything he would have chickened out long before he got here, but first-class plane tickets and a shiny red mini-cooper with racing stripes and a gps... Bilbo couldn't waste that. No hotel room, though, Nori was assuming he'd be crashing with Bofur.... and Bilbo had to _breathe_. 

Oh God, Skype. Skype was his friend. He could have met Bofur with the safety of distance between them. 

He had his phone, and he had Bofur's number, he could _still_ chicken out, ask to meet in a neutral location – somewhere with other people...

Bilbo gazed miserably at the cheerful bike shop. Nori had told him that Bofur was looking for him, that he'd been pining after Bilbo... and Bilbo had been doing the same, not that he knew it at the time. He _loved_ Bofur, and he _remembered_ being loved-by Bofur now. Bofur had been the sweetest man Bilbo ever met, the love of his very long life. They hadn't minded, last time, that they weren't of the same species, _surely_ it wouldn't matter to Bofur that Bilbo was... 

...would he refuse to see Bilbo as _himself?_ Nori hadn't seemed to have a problem with it, but then again he'd just been repairing Nori's laptop, not starting a relationship with him, and it was very possible that Nori had just assumed he was _young_. 

Bilbo looked at the bike shop – bike mechanic and a trucker before that, those were fairly stereotypically masculine jobs – _who knew_ what kind of politics and social norms Bofur ascribed to this time around. 

Bilbo closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the steering wheel, his hands in a white-knuckled grip on the same. Bofur _wouldn't_ hurt him, he had to believe that, not _intentionally_... so that left a few possibilities. He might not be _attracted_ to Bilbo anymore... oh, that would hurt. He might not be willing to see Bilbo as male, and Bilbo flinched from the thought of the comments of 'but what's your _real_ name' and 'but you haven't got a...' that even people who thought they had good intentions could come out with. 

The scariest possibility, though, if he were being honest with himself, was the possibility that Bofur would want to jump right back into the kind of physical relationship they'd had, the way Nori had with Dwalin, and Bilbo... 

He forced himself to _breathe_. That was something Bilbo _couldn't_ do. Not always. Not easily. 

Body dysphoria. Fun times for all. 

Bilbo squared his jaw (which was, sadly, not all that square), forcing the air into his lungs smooth and even. 

He could do this. He was _Bilbo Baggins_ , who'd faced down Azog on his Warg with a sword the size of a letter opener, who'd walked _twice_ into a Dragon's den, who'd stolen thirteen Dwarves out from under the Elf-King's nose, who'd riddled with Gollum, who'd _given up_ the One Ring of his own free will. 

Who'd loved his Dwarf even though the Shire looked down on _that sort of thing_. 

He was Bilbo Baggins and he could be brave. He pried his hands off the steering wheel and opened the car door, surprised at the coolness of the air outside – he hadn't noticed the car turning into a hothouse in the evening sunlight as he sat, and that was the _last_ thing he needed, to be gross and sweaty as well as nervous when meeting Bofur. 

He smoothed (admittedly imaginary) wrinkles from his button-down shirt and neatly pressed pants, and wished for a moment that he'd worn a waistcoat and a pocketwatch, familiar things that he'd never known before _why_ felt so right. 

The bell let out a cheerful _ding_ as he walked through the door, and there Bofur was. 

_Oh Bofur_... beautiful in a way no camera could ever capture, with his craggy face all wrinkled up in a smile as he hunkered down to talk to the little girl of the family who'd preceded Bilbo inside, and his dusty brown hair, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows over his brawny forearms and big strong hands, all grease-stained and happy and _Bofur_... 

He held up a hand to pause the little girl, starting talking toward Bilbo before he saw him. “We're closing in ten minu... Bilbo!” Bofur's eyes went wide with hope and joy, and Bilbo could _see_ him torn between abandoning the family to greet Bilbo and his duty to his customers. 

“Bilbo, how did you...” 

“Nori gave me your address, I wanted to surprise you.” Bilbo said, waving him away to the customers, feeling a small blush at the way Bofur was _looking_ at him, like he was so happy he was going to cry. He poked at a few beautiful bikes while Bofur finished his conversation with the girl and went into the back, coming back with the bike he'd made for her. The girl wheeled it around happily as her parents paid, and they wheeled it out the door, followed by Bofur, who locked it and flipped the sign to 'closed', turning to Bilbo with the biggest grin on his face. 

“I think I can be forgiven for closing up a little early today.” he said, taking a step toward Bilbo, his eyes all crinkled up with the warmest smile, arms going wide as if for a hug. Bilbo stepped forward, heart in his throat and his hand extended for a handshake. 

Better for Bofur to find out being _told_ than by accidentally _feeling_... at the end of the day there was only so much a binder could _do_. 

Bofur didn't miss a beat, grabbing Bilbo's hand and pulling him forward, hands clasped tight between them, foreheads resting together, and Bofur's second hand coming to rest lightly on the back of Bilbo's neck. 

“Oh, Bilbo...” he breathed, “I've missed you so much...” 

Bilbo's eyes closed, his free hand reaching up to grab a handful of Bofur's shirt, holding on tight as he pressed his own forehead tighter against Bofur's – like they could merge into one from that single point of contact. Bofur's hand was big and warm, rough with calluses, and he smelled like metal and grease and some sort of neutrally-masculine soap, and he was big and strong, and he was rubbing a circle on the back of Bilbo's hand – and he was all Bilbo wanted in the _whole world_ , he'd been _missing something_ his whole life and now...

“Bofur...” oh dear, it certainly wasn't supposed to come out like a sob. 

“Shh...” Bofur hushed, moving back slightly so their foreheads weren't together anymore, gently brushing tears he hadn't known he was crying off of Bilbo's cheeks, the expression in his eyes so warm and tender Bilbo almost couldn't face it. 

The kiss was soft, warm lips against his own, the slight scratch of stubble against his chin and he _wanted_ to kiss Bofur, just kiss him forever... but no. 

No. 

Full disclosure _before_ things got emotionally heated. All the cards had to be on the table first, before anything. 

If there was going to _be_ anything once Bofur knew. 

Bilbo backed away from the kiss after only just a few (too long, not long enough) seconds, and Bofur just smiled at him, lifting the hand he'd been holding to his lips before releasing him. 

“You haven't changed a bit.” he said. 

“I... I _might_ have changed more than you think...” Bilbo said, feeling the twist of apprehension in his gut. Bofur raised an eyebrow at that, inviting him to share... and he intended to, he really did, but when he opened his mouth, “I haven't had dinner yet, do you want to go someplace and catch up...” came out instead. 

Bofur's eyes widened in mock-horror, “You're late for dinner? I can't have my Hobbit starving!” he laughed, “We can go to Marjie's just up the street, she's got the _best_ apple pie. Let me wash up...” He headed for the back, holding out a hand to Bilbo, who accepted it. 

The back of the shop was full of half-assembled bikes and tools Bilbo had no names for – his Bofur, always good with his hands. Bofur led him to a utility sink on the back wall, running the water and beginning to soap his arms, gesturing toward the nearby countertop. 

“That's probably the cleanest place to sit, if you'd like...” he offered, “It takes a while to get all the grease off.” and Bilbo took him up on the offer, hopping up to perch on the counter where he had a good view of Bofur. 

Of course, Bofur had a good view of him, too, and he was taking advantage of it, glancing up at him every few seconds. 

“You're wearing shoes.” he observed, scrubbing at his nails with a small brush. 

“Oh...” Bilbo kicked his feet a bit, “I don't, whenever I can get away with it. The shoes come off as soon as I get home.” 

“We'll get you home and out of those as soon as we're done with dinner.” he said, his eyes promising 'and maybe the rest of your clothes too'. 

“I'm trans.” Bilbo blurted out, and cursed himself for the awkwardness of the non-sequitur, that's not really at all how he'd planned on telling Bofur, “trans... transgender, I'm...” 

“Oh!” Bofur said, pausing his scrubbing and giving Bilbo one of those searching looks that made him want to go hide behind something, like his eyes were trying to pry underneath Bilbo's clothes. Thankfully Bofur seemed to realize how uncomfortable he was making Bilbo and looked back at his hands, continuing scrubbing with the little brush while Bilbo's heart raced and he tried not to panic externally while he waited for how Bofur was going to respond. 

...please please please be ok with it... 

“So... your pronouns?” Bofur asked, like this was something he'd heard about and was trying to remember how the script went. 

“He.” Bilbo said, and Bofur nodded. 

“That's easy enough.” he said, smiling, “That's what I'm used to for you.” He put his hands under the water, the grimy suds washing away. 

“You're ok with... I mean, physically I'm...” Bilbo tried. 

“You're Bilbo.” Bofur said, drying his hands on a towel, still smiling at Bilbo just the same,“I doesn't matter what the...” he gestured toward all of Bilbo, “the wrapping is, as long as you're _Bilbo_ , I love you.” 

...Bilbo probably shouldn't have been getting misty-eyed over that. 

“Sex isn't easy for me.” He said, trying to get as much of it over with at once as he could, since he was already started, “Sometimes it's ok, and sometimes I can't be touched, and... it's just... it won't be _easy_ , if we...” he'd wrapped his arms around himself, hunching over, and trying to remember to _breathe_. 

“Hey.” Bofur said gently, brushing Bilbo's cheek with the back of one warm finger, stained with grease embedded in its pores that would never wash away.

“When was it _ever_ easy?” he asked, shaking his head. “It never was, but it _was_ worth it.” his hand was cupping Bilbo's cheek now, his eyes gentle, his voice soft, “I'm not going to ask you for anything you don't want.” 

Bilbo grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him in for a hug, wrapping his arms around his Bofur as tight as he could – the broken sound that crawled out of his throat was not part of the plan but it didn't matter. Bofur's arms wrapped around him tentatively, strong and gentle and... and just _Bofur._

“Hugs are ok?” he asked. 

“...very ok...” Bilbo said into Bofur's shirt, and his arms tightened around him, safe and snug and secure. Bofur rubbed his cheek against the top of Bilbo's head. 

“How about...” he suggested, “how about after dinner we take Marjie's apple pie to go, and go home to watch movies and cuddle on the couch?” 

Bilbo nodded. That sounded _very_ good. Bofur planted a kiss to the top of his head and let him go, taking his hand and leading him through the maze of a workshop and out the back door. 

The sun was setting, the light all soft pink and gold as they ambled down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. Bofur smiled at Bilbo as they walked, and Bilbo snuggled himself up to the bigger man's side. 

If this weekend worked out as well as it had started, the tech shop he worked for had a branch nearby – he could ask for a transfer.

None of this was going to be easy, Bilbo mused as he went up on tiptoe to kiss Bofur, who responded happily, but Bofur had been right. It would be worth it. 

It always had been. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really really hope I got this right. This is my first time writing from the perspective of a trans* person and I really hope I didn't mess it up. I've been working on this chapter for three days (three times as long as a normal chapter) because I was so afraid of messing it up.  
> If I have messed it up. If something is wrong or offensive or something _please tell me_. I want to know. I want to write better. I want to _understand_ better, and I especially don't want to misrepresent anybody.  
> Thank you.  
> ...  
> *posts chapter and flees before chickening out again*
> 
> Now with a followup written by Judayre! http://archiveofourown.org/works/916545


	8. Care Package

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori is in college.  
> Dori sends the first care package.

.

Ori _could not_ care less about trade embargoes of the 18 th century, she really couldn't. She sank lower and lower in the chair, fighting desperately to keep awake, to force the details into her reluctant brain, while all around her her friends did the same in the common room of their dorm apartment.

She'd been reading the same page over and over again and _still_ wasn't sure who England was mad at or _why_ when the the dorm's RA sauntered in with the mail.

“Package for a Miss Platte, aka Ori?” She said, laughing as Ori jumped to her feet, accidentally dumping her book on the floor. She hadn't been _expecting_ a package, Nori usually told her beforehand...

The RA tossed the package to Ori, who nearly dropped it in surprise.

Not Nori at all.

Dori!

Ori hadn't expected her to _actually_ send care packages when she'd asked for her address. She opened the box carefully as the RA passed out a few other letters.

“Cookies!” Ori absolutely _was not_ ashamed to have squealed it at that high of a pitch as she lifted out carefully-packed bags of cookies, chocolate chip and oat-nut-butterscotch and shortbread. Her friends all came awake at once, clambering over furniture to gaze longingly at the cookies.

There were collective moans as she opened the oat-nut-butterscotch cookies and the scent wafted out from them.

“Do we have any milk?” Ori asked, and her friend nearest the mini-fridge pried the door open, shaking her head.

“I guess we have to make a store run...”

“But it's _cold_ out...”

“I want to eat the cookies _now_...”

The RA had gotten close enough for a sniff of the cookies, “Oh. My. God.” She groaned, “I will seriously... I will trade you half a gallon of milk for two of each of the cookies.”

“Deal!” Ori grinned, and the RA abandoned her mail-delivery duties for the moment, darting off to her own apartment while Ori's friends started scrounging in the cabinets for cups or cuplike objects to dunk their cookies in.

Ori had the cookies all out on a plate – a small plate made up for the RA with two of each as promised – when she came back with the milk. For a moment there was a chaos of milk being poured and cookies being grabbed, and then there was silence as everyone settled down to savor the cookies.

“I think I'm in love with your mom.” Andy groaned from lying on the floor, bowl of milk balanced on her belly and half-eaten chocolate chip in her hand.

“Dori isn't my _mom.”_ Ori giggled, “She's...”

Huh. Ori had almost said 'brother' but that wasn't right, this time around... and not really last time either, Dori had _raised_ her, and almost all on his own. He'd been more single-parent than brother, and a good one too.

“Dori's a mother-hen, she's like family, and...” Ori grinned at her milk, “You couldn't ask for a better mom, even if you're not her kid.”

“To Dori!” Andy lifted her bowl for a toast, and everyone answered, clinking together their cups and jars and bowls of milk. “You _seriously_ have the best honorary family.”

“Yeah.” Ori smiled, eating her cookies. She _knew_ how lucky she was to have Nori and Dori.

With cookies to wash it down, the embargoes of the 18th century were a lot easier to take in. Ori still couldn't care less, but at least the entire experience wasn't painful, and she could tell the rest of her friends agreed. There were a lot more smiles and a lot fewer yawns.

They decided they had to send a present back to Dori, to thank her for the cookies. Meg, who was studying art history and photography this semester, posed them all around the common room like some famous painting, with everyone lying on the floor or flopped across the furniture gazing-at and reaching-toward Ori, who stood in the center holding the final chocolate chip cookie.

As soon as Meg said she'd gotten the shot she wanted everyone tensed, gazes fixed on the final cookie like a pack of starving hyenas.

Ori squealed, bolting for the hallway, cookie held aloft and her laughing friends hot on her heels.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ori's last name is Platte because the Platte is a famous river.  
> Also, I want cookies now.


	9. Do it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are jerks at a gym and Nori has a terrible mouth. 
> 
> This story is set after the ending of Saudade, timeline-wise.  
> 
> WARNING  
> for homophobic language
> 
> please note that his fic is now rated M.

.

Dwalin kept busy as he waited, switching between tape-wrapped hands every few hits, keeping up a steady rhythm and listening _only_ to the steady _thud-thud-thud-thud_ of the speed bag.

He _did not_ listen to the bile the prehistoric dinosaurs were spewing behind his back as they worked on the other equipment.

It wasn't worth his _time_.

He knew better than to rise to the bait. It wasn't like he hadn't heard worse in his military years, especially right at the end. (don't ask, dont tell: somebody told.)

It wasn't worth his _time_ to bother with them. They just wanted an excuse to start a fight, which Dwalin would win, and then he'd get uninvited from the gym – and this was the _only_ gym anywhere nearby that was also a parkour gym.

And Nori _loved_ parkour, loved relearning how to move and climb the way he'd known how to in another life.

Dwalin concentrated on the _thud-thud-thud_ of the speed bag under his fists and ignored the homophobic assholes on the other equipment.

The parkour side of the gym was newer and drew a much better, younger, more concious and inclusive crowd - but there was always _someone_ in the older regular gym side who thought it was their job to snipe at Dwalin.

Today was worse than usual, but it _wasn't_ worth his time. So it made them feel bad and brave to display their ignorance? Dwalin was the bigger man, figuratively and literally. Crushing them wouldn't even be a challenge. It wasn't worth his _time_.

Dwalin noticed, with relief, Nori come swaggering in the door. He was flushed under his freckles and grinning widely, a little sweat sticking his tight white tanktop to his skin – the delicious muscles in his shoulders on full display and gorgeous everywhere else too, he had a lot of strength under that little layer of businessman-softness. His gorgeous dark red hair had finally grown out long enough to fit into a ponytail, but it was all falling out into curling mess around his head... and the crowning touch, a bite-mark _just_ visible on the pale skin of his neck.

He was fucking _perfect._

Nori waved and leaned against the doorframe, Dwalin nodded to him and finished off the speed bag with nasty elbow jab far harder than necessary, making the whole rig ring with the impact before turning away to join him.

“The rich boy's come to collect his fucktoy.” the _slime mold_ who didn't know when to _shut up_ sneered, “Yeah, that's right, roll over when your pretty boy calls! You're both going to hell!”

_He was not worth Dwalin's time._

Dwalin _did not_ react as he stalked toward the door, his jaw and his fists both clenched. It was _not worth the time_...

Nori turned from giving the dinosaur a flesh-melting-laser glare to Dwalin, his eyes going wide and his breath catching slightly as Dwalin approached. God, Nori... so predictable, always turned on when Dwalin got riled up.

...fuck it.

Dwalin grabbed a handful of Nori's hair at the back of his head and bent him back to kiss him, a hard kiss, a _mean_ kiss – Nori moaning against his mouth, all soft lips and heated tongue as he kissed back, arms wrapping around Dwalin.

It was childish, Dwalin had _nothing_ to prove to these assholes, but it felt good, like a double middle-finger to _anyone_ who thought this was wrong.

All they had was their fear and their hate – Dwalin had _Nori_.

He broke the kiss before it got too involved, the _last_ thing he needed was to get an erection in his sweat pants. Nori looked up at him with wide-pupiled eyes and bite-reddened lips, still holding onto Dwalin and both of them ignoring the asshole who was keeping up a predictable litany of pseudo-religion and bile.

Nori _smiled_ , and that's when Dwalin knew he was in trouble.

“Show them. Do it.” Nori whispered, fast and quiet, “Show them you're _no one's_ fucktoy. Force me to my _knees_ and make me suck you off, right here. Fuck my mouth with that great big cock until I'm _choking_ on it and then shove it all the way down my throat. Bet they've never seen anyone do _that_ outside of porn. Show them what they're missing, make them jealous. Show them what I can do. Show them _you're_ the man here. Do it. Force me to my knees and make me suck you off. Let them watch me moan even when I'm choking for air. Let them see how hard I get for you when you're using me. Do it now. You _know_ I'll let you.”

Nori's eyes were gleaming, breath fast, and _fuck_ he _would_ let Dwalin do that. He'd _never_ minded an audience, always getting Dwalin to fuck him down alleyways and in quiet corners of the palace where they _might_ get caught in their other life, too... never anywhere nearly _this_ public, though.

It was _not_ an option.

“Nori...” he tried to make it a warning to stop, but his voice came out a low growl that had Nori shivering, that terrible smile never leaving his face, and Dwalin wasn't sure he'd _ever_ been so glad his complexion didn't show that _all_ his blood was rushing to his face – what little of it wasn't trying to make a break south.

“Or would you rather fuck me?” Nori continued, whispering fast, “bet I could lube you up without anyone noticing, make it look like you're fucking me dry. Throw me against a wall or bend me over a weight bench and plow into me until I _scream_ – beg you for harder while you're giving me all you have – make them rethink the idea that getting fucked is _weak_. Go on, show them. _Do it_.”

“When we get home.” Dwalin hissed, grabbing Nori by the arm and dragging him away into the locker room before he could lose the fight against getting an erection, Nori laughing the whole way.

After brief, and in Dwalin's case _cold_ , showers, they emptied out their lockers and left.

Nori stopped at the front desk and gave the girl working one of his best professional smiles, the ones designed to make people like and trust him on sight.

“Hey Rose, could you get the manager for me?” He asked.

Dwalin waited curiously beside Nori, wondering what he was up to, while Rose darted off to find the manager.

“Mr. Seine?” the manager greeted. Nori was rich – and thus important – enough that the manager knew him on sight.

Nori handed him both his own and Dwalin's locker keys – when had he gotten ahold of that? damn thief – then calmly ripped both their membership cards into pieces and dropped them into the trash can in front of the shocked manager's eyes.

“This place _might_ be worth having a membership to if it didn't foster such a homophobic attitude and cater to that kind of clientele. My husband and I will be taking our business elsewhere.” Nori said firmly, spinning on his heel and walking out the door, Dwalin right on his heels.

He knew a dramatic exit when he saw one, and he'd had a whole lifetime to learn how to follow Nori's cues.

It had been _very_ satisfying, but still... Nori _loved_ parkour and this was the only gym that had that.

“You didn't _have_ to.” Dwalin said, “I can take it.”

Nori smiled up at him. “I kind of did.” he answered, “You _shouldn't_ have to.” He bumped his shoulder against Dwalin, eyes shining, “Now take me home and do _terrible_ things to me.”

“I plan on it.” he growled low against Nori's ear as he accepted the car keys, chuckling at the smaller man's sharp intake of breath. “You're going to be _sorry_ you teased me...”

“ _Good.”_ Nori purred, and his smile was _anything_ but repentant.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels good to be back in this AU.
> 
> Nori's appearance was greatly influenced by nowitsaparty's fanart  
> http://nowitsaparty.tumblr.com/post/57500181611/set-in-thorinsmuts-reincarnation-au-which-is


	10. taser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin is rightfully tased, and a new member is added to the Company. 
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING!  
> this chapter contains someone being in a potentially unsafe situation, being followed/stalked by someone they _do not know_ and have reason not to trust, and reacting in a logical manner to that.   
>  It turns out ok, but I am aware this is potentially triggering.   
> I always prefer to warn.

.

She walked faster, palms sweating and her heart pounding. 

He'd been trying to corner her for _two days_ , the only blot on an otherwise excellent conference. 

At first, it had seemed like the 'I can't tell Asian people apart and think I know you' bullshit, but usually pointedly ignoring the smiling and waving was enough for people to get _that_ hint. 

It hadn't worked on him. There was something too intense in his eyes when he watched her, and that's when he got himself recategorized from 'annoying' to 'avoid at all costs'. 

The conference was only a few days long, and it was big enough that she could avoid him fairly easily... and she _hated_ that she had to. 

She _hated_ that he couldn't take a goddamn _hint_ when she moved the other direction whenever he headed toward her. She hated that she ended up moving in a pack with her friends from the women in investing panel, like it was middle school all over again – the gals were great, really, but _fuck. that. shit_. She hated that if she actually told him off, _she'd_ be the bitch for confronting him when he was 'just trying to be nice' by stalking her. She could _tell_ how it would have gone, the tall charismatic Company Director with his perfectly respectable salt-and-pepper hair versus the pudgy little venture capitalist with her too-bright dyed red hair and a temper to match... it wouldn't have gone her way, and she _hated_ it. 

He'd been trying to corner her for _two days_. She should have known he wouldn't be that easy to shake. She should have known he would follow, shouldn't have walked _alone_ to...

You know what? No. 

Fuck _all_ that rape culture shit. 

She would walk out alone to the parking garage to get to her car if she goddamn _wanted_ to and 'should have known' could eat 4.5 million volts along with the asshole who's running footfalls were closing in on her just as she reached her car. 

She spun, her arm flying out, mini-taser in her fist flying hard into his stomach. Her self defense instructor would have been _proud_ as the tall man crumpled into a twitching pile at her feet. 

She switched her taser off but didn't put the safety on yet, breathing hard as she stepped back from him... trying to control the shakes and wondering if kicking him in the nuts while he was down was justified or overkill. 

She'd never... she'd never had to actually _do_ that before, it wasn't at _all_ the same as...

...wait... 

Just before she dropped him, he'd said a word... a name... 

Gloin. 

She looked down at the crumpled man, his face slack, eyes staring dazedly up at her, but completely, _unmistakeably_ , and impossibly... 

“Thorin?” Gloin asked, and the memories poured back – a trickle tearing into a flood. 

.

Gloin was hunkered down in front of Thorin when he finally gathered himself together enough to sit up against the back bumper of her car. 

“Two things,” she said. “First, you're going to read 'Schrodinger's Rapist' and write me an essay on the things you did wrong.” 

“Wha..?” he said. 

“I'll send you a link.” She said. “And _second_...” she touched the trigger of her mini taser to make it spark and crackle, “ _where_ is my Gimli?” 

“Gloin! You remember!” He smiled like the sun rising, and she laughed as she let him pull her into a back-slapping hug. 

“I'm _not_ sorry I tased you.” she grumped, and he laughed. 

“You haven't changed.” He said, letting her go, and she pocketed her taser as she offered him a hand up. 

His suit was definitely ruined, but seriously – who thinks it's ok to accost a woman alone in a parking garage? She was _almost_ tempted to tase him again, just to make sure the lesson stuck. 

“Let me give you everyone's numbers.” Thorin said, taking his phone out, “They're all going to be _so glad_ I found you... we don't have Gimli though, or Oin, not yet... Bilbo's been looking for his Frodo too.” 

Gloin nodded. She'd just have to _find_ him. 

She looked at the text of names and numbers Thorin had sent her, a cold thought settling into the pit of her stomach. 

“If _we're_ all here... then Azog or Smaug could...” 

Thorin handed her a business card, for himself at Erebor. 

“We already took Smaug down.” Thorin said, “It was mostly Nori and Bilbo... I could tell you the story over dinner?” 

Gloin hesitated, but nodded. She was so _hungry_ for news of the Company, like she hadn't heard of them for a lifetime even though she'd only just remembered. 

“Go get yourself cleaned up and I'll text you where to meet.” She suggested. 

“Could we get a picture to send everyone first?” Thorin asked, poking at his phone like he wasn't sure how to turn the camera on, smiling slightly as he figured it out. 

It was a simple picture – Thorin scuffed and a little haggard, stooping down, Gloin stretching up so they could both fit in the frame, the bright spark of the taser in Gloin's hand not coming out all that clearly. 

Gloin's number was apparently already in the 'send to everyone' list on Thorin's phone, because she got a copy too as she started to drive away. 

“ _Gloin tased me!”_ followed by her phone number. 

By the time she reached her hotel, almost the entire Company had already sent her congratulations. 

.


	11. the courthouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a dark and rainy day and I wrote fluffy Fili and Kili

.

They came out of the courtroom dancing. 

“It worked!” Kili crowed as Fili tangoed them down the boringly industrial hallway, humming slightly to keep them in time, “It can't be undone!” 

“You're mine now.” Fili said, dropping his voice to his lower register and dipping Kili low, supporting his beautiful brother across his knee, not breaking eye contact. 

Kili laughed as Fili drew him back to his feet, throwing his arms around his neck and rubbing noses. Fili couldn't help but laugh with him, that infectious bubble that he'd missed like a piece of himself before they found each other. 

“Kili.” he said. 

“Fili.” Kili answered. 

“The Althestan brothers.” He whispered, hardly able to believe it was _finally_ true – or as close to true as they could legally make it. They were each other's medical proxies and next of kin and so many other things Fili's lawyer assured them meant they could _never_ be separated... and now finally their _names_. 

“That's us!” Kili said, eyes shining, “...we need to _celebrate_!” He grabbed Fili's hand and ran out the door, pulling him with as he babbled all the places they _had_ to go to celebrate, and Fili could only smile and follow. 

“Congratulations!” someone called out, a group of strangers laughing and clapping for them as they exited the building. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” Kili called back, tossing his long black hair and blowing kisses. Fili blushed and shook his head as he overheard the 'cutest newlyweds' comment. 

It would have been _easier_ to get married. His lawyer had suggested it, Fili's parents had even taken him aside to assure him that they wouldn't mind Kili as a son-in-law if that's what he really wanted... but it just wouldn't have felt _right_. 

They were _brothers_. 

Fili and Kili – inseparable in life and death and life again. The Althestan brothers. Althestan, noble stone, so they could _never_ forget who they were and where they came from. 

They threw themselves into the car and Kili immediately flipped his mirror down to apply the sparkles he'd not quite dared wear into the courthouse. Fili stripped off his businesslike button-down shirt and covered the black t-shirt under it with his black leather jacket. 

They grinned at each other at the same time. 

“Let's go?” Kili asked. 

Fili gently cuffed the back of his brother's neck, “Let's go.” he said. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Platonic soulmates for the win!


	12. the healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oin

.

“Oin!?”

The voice called out from an exam room as he rushed past.

“Be with you in a moment, Ori!” he called back distractedly, eyes on the chart he was trying to read. Mrs. Peterson was going to need...

_Ori_

_Moria_

_the watcher in the water, snake arms dragging him under to drowning and sharp teeth..._

Oin stumbled into a medical cart and rolled off it into the wall, only just barely keeping to his feet as he gasped.

_How? Why?_

Oin shoved Mrs. Peterson's chart at one of the more competent interns, rattling off instructions for her on autopilot. It took all his self control to not _run_ back to Ori's exam room.

“Ori?” he nearly fell in the door to the exam room, and Ori smiled up at him bright behind big glasses, a mousey little thing who probably had strength no one would ever guess.

“Oh, my dear...” he'd almost said 'lad', but that wasn't... Ori seemed to be... but that didn't necessarily _mean_ anything...

“Girl.” Ori said, seeming to understand his hesitation, holding out her arms with a shy shrug. He stepped into the little room to briefly hug her.

He pushed her back, cradled her cheeks in his hands, “Ori... how...” Nothing made sense, none of it – he shouldn't be _able_ to remember Orcs and Dragons and wars and some sort of a _kracken_ pulling him under...

“I don't know either, none of us does.” She said, “But we've got almost the whole Company.”

_the dark and the Orcs and the despair and the Drums..._

“Tell me you got out of there.” he said, “Tell me you found a way out.”

Ori met his eyes, calm, iron in her spine no one would ever suspect, “There was only ever one way out of Moria.” She said quietly. “I was one of the last.”

Oin turned away... if he and Balin hadn't dragged Ori along...

“Don't.” she said. “It was a different life, and I made the _choice_ to go.”

“Here.” She said, awkwardly pulling her phone out with her left hand as she smiled at him, “let me give you everyone's numbers... Gloin will be glad to hear from you – though she's more interested in finding Gimli.”

It was a mark of how very distracted Oin had been that he only _then_ realized that her right hand was wrapped up.

“What happened?” He asked, reaching for it.

“Oh, bike crash.” she said, laughing a little embarrassedly, “Nothing serious, a skinned hand and a bashed knee, I'll be fine.”

He was going to unwrap her field dressing and check on it personally when his pager went off, and he had to go.

“I have to...” he said, turning to the door.

“Just give me your number?” Ori begged, and he rattled it off before he dashed away – no more time to think of impossible people and memories until his shift was over.

He had a handful of picture messages on his phone when he collected it from his locker, all from Ori. Gloin looking sharp and dangerous in a black suit with a hint of bright red at her throat to match her dyed hair – Fili and Kili dancing – Bilbo and Bofur asleep on a couch – Bombur flipping steaks over a grill – Ori herself with Dori – Nori and Dwalin laughing with Balin – Thorin looking commanding at the head of a room... almost the entire Company, the way Ori had said, and all of their numbers with them.

“ _Give me a call.”_ her text said, _“I'm in town all week, we need to catch up.”_

He smiled as he changed out of his work clothes and tried to figure out where to invite her to dinner.

He had the _Company_ back.

.


	13. the numbers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bifur never doubted they would come for her. 
> 
>  
> 
> Non-linear storytelling from the perspective of a person with a brain injury.  
> I hope I did it right.

.

Bombur was the first.

Bifur had refused the pills that morning and was lying on her back tracing the snake-curving force and momentum equations flinging off the outer edge of the fan blades when he came into view – and the numbers all flew away as she sprang up and jumped into his arms.

He was laughing, half-crying as he squeezed her tight. He was big and warm and round and he smelled like food and airplanes and he was _Bombur_. He looked different, a big horseshoe mustache instead of his beard loop, but _she_ was different too.

“Bifur... Bifur we've been looking _everywhere_...” he whispered.

“Bom” she managed, and he rested his forehead gently against hers.

“We'll get you out.” he promised, “We'll bring you _home_.”

She nodded and smiled. She'd never doubted that they would come for her.

.

It took three tries to get the letter sent out.

The first time failed because she'd trusted the nurse. It had taken her three days to get the numbers all written down right, to get it all to fit on the page right, and she'd _thought_ the nurse understood. The physical therapist had helped her research the address, and she had it all written up – writing was _so much_ easier than trying to talk – and she'd given it and the address to the nurse.

James from down the hall told her that the nurse had looked through it and then thrown it in the trash.

Bifur wrote it back up again.

The second time someone threw it away while 'straightening up' her things while she was in the shower.

The third time she was careful. Her mission was to get the letter out, and the hospital staff _would not_ stand in her way. They always seemed to forget that she could _think_ just because she couldn't _talk_ , but she hadn't forgotten her training. She'd been a _damn good_ soldier, once. She kept the numbers safe behind her eyes until she'd stolen an envelope and a stamp, then she wrote it all up _again_ and sealed it up, and slipped it in the outgoing mail.

Then she just had to wait.

.

Bombur was the first to come see Bifur. He stayed for a few days, then he went away again. Bofur came next, scruffy and laughing and smelling of bike grease. Nori came with him, looking sleek and rich in a tailored gray suit, sharp-angled numbers dripping out of the ironed creases in the fabric, Ori and another lawyer with him.

“We'll spring you out.” Nori told her with a wink and a smile. He slipped her a smartphone with a full keyboard that had _The Toymaker_ etched in pretty calligraphy on the back. It already had the entire Company's numbers in it and pictures of everyone.

Typing words wasn't easy, unlike numbers they didn't always come out right, but easier than trying to talk. Trying to talk almost never worked – the sounds got all tangled up and came out wrong.

With the phone she was almost able to have _conversations_.

She'd missed that.

.

Bifur had never doubted that they would come for her. She knew they wouldn't leave her _here_ , all alone, but she'd been waiting _so long_ and wished they would hurry up.

She'd refused the pills that dulled the clear-edged beauty of the numbers and was playing with a block of jello – tapping it with her spoon to watch the rebound fling out a rainbow of everchanging curves from the crisp edges – when the spot came on the news. Just a little fluff piece about Erebor on a slow news day, and there was Thorin – speaking about making a space of safety, acceptance, and opportunity for _everyone_. There was Bilbo and Bofur, talking about their opposite but complementary approaches to green initiatives, high-tech and low, respectively.

Bifur had watched them with tears rolling down her face. She'd never doubted they'd come for her, but there they finally _were_.

She punched the nurse when he tried to change the channel, seeing how it was making her cry, and sat right in front of the little tv and watched her friends from another life.

She watched Gloin talking about the math they used to determine what was a good investment... and it wasn't quite right. Maybe the news people got it wrong, but there were better numbers to use.

It took three days to get the right numbers written down right on the page to send to Gloin.

Then she just had to send it to them, and they would come for her.

.

Oin and Dwalin came when Ori came back again. Ori sat with Bifur on her bed and texted rapid-fire back and forth while Oin and Dwalin talked in the hallway about IED's and traumatic brain injury with the hospital doctors. Bifur wasn't surprised that Dwalin knew the military terms and procedures, he'd been a soldier _before,_ too.

Bifur got tired and curled up with her head in little Ori's lap, the pretty lawyer running her fingers through her hair and humming a song to her. Bifur closed her eyes and watched the numbers of the vibration frequencies buzz out to shake themselves into dust...

She didn't even mind when Ori's fingers traced the scars on her face.

“Soon.” Ori promised when she left, kissing both her cheeks, “We'll get you out soon. We're getting close.”

.

It was a beautiful warm day when they came to take her home. Bilbo brought her a cheerful gray and yellow striped sundress to wear that Dori had chosen for her. Bombur hugged her and wouldn't let her go and Bofur smiled with tears in the happy creases at the corners of his eyes. Nori smiled like a fox as he dealt with the staff.

They all laughed as they piled into the shiny rental car.

She'd _never_ doubted they would come for her.

.


	14. the boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've been looking for him a long time.
> 
> Timeline-wise, this one is set many years after the end of Saudade.

.

“ _He's thirteen years old. He's been in and out of the system for years, but he's in for good now. None of his previous foster homes can take him. He's in a group home right now, but we're looking for a permanent placement. He needs a lot of attention, a lot of one-on-one... he's pretty closed off but he's a_ good _kid once he opens up...”_

“Of _course_ we'll take him.” Bilbo said.

“ _Oh, good.”_ The social worker sounded relieved over the phone, _“I knew I could count on you two. We'll set up a couple meetings and see how it goes...”_

.

The first time Bilbo and Bofur met him, he hardly even looked at them. He glanced over at them and then turned his attention back to the ipod cradled against his chest, a line running up to a single earbud – a scrawny little thing in a black t-shirt with his dark hair falling into his eyes.

“Gay guys, huh?” he said despondently, “That's different.”

“That won't be a problem?” The social worker asked, and he shrugged one shoulder.

“As long as I don't have to watch them make out or anything.” he said.

“I value my privacy.” Bilbo said, “You might see us hug or kiss, but we won't 'make out' where you can see.”

The boy shrugged noncommittally at that.

They took him to a street fair and out to dinner, and Bilbo did manage to get him to talk a bit about his favorite music, but he didn't really look at either of them the entire time.

“Oh, Bofur...” Bilbo said after they'd dropped him back off, his bottom lip trembling and his eyes too bright.

“I know.” Bofur soothed, tucking Bilbo's head under his chin and wrapping his arms tight around the smaller man, “I know. We'll make it right.”

.

The second time they met him, he was wearing chipped black nailpolish and rather liberally applied black eyeliner.

“Marci let me borrow it.” he said, throwing a dirty look at the fussing social worker.

“There's nothing wrong with wanting to wear makeup now and then.” Bilbo told her, shooing her off, and the boy gave him a surprised and grateful glance before he frowned and went back to poking his ipod.

They took him to tour Bofur's bike shop. He forgot himself a little, examining Bofur's more fanciful creations with a wondering smile. Bofur demonstrated how to ride a few and let him ride some around the parking lot, then they walked to the nearby park and had a big picnic under a tree. Bilbo kicked his shoes off and scrunched his toes in the grass, and the boy followed suit not long after.

Bilbo even got permission to listen in on the other earbud while he played some of his favorite songs.

Bilbo squeezed his shoulder with a smile when they dropped him back off. He stopped at the door, looking at them hard for a moment before he shook his head, dropping his hair back into his eyes and turning back to his ipod.

“He breaks my heart.” Bilbo said quietly on the drive home, “His songs are all about being sad and alone.”

Bofur reached over to put his hand comfortingly on Bilbo's knee, and Bilbo kept his eyes firmly on the road.

.

A few days later he came to live with them, a duffel-bag over his shoulder and his eyes on nothing but the social worker's shoes as he followed her in.

He did perk up a little at the delicious smells Bilbo was coaxing from the kitchen. After getting them all to promise to call her if they needed anything the social worker was gone, and they gave him a tour.

“This is your room.” Bofur said, leading the way in to the sunny room overlooking the back garden, “let us know if there's anything else you want or need in here...”

There was a bed, a closet, a dresser, a poster they'd picked up of the band he said was his favorite.

“hey...” he said, he'd noticed the mirror on the dresser and the things in front of it – a couple eyeliner pencils, black and deep deep red nailpolish and remover to go with it.

“Kili told me those are the best brands.” Bilbo said, “But we can get you something different if you prefer...”

The boy picked the nailpolish up like he almost didn't believe it.

“You also need some way to contact us.” Bilbo handed a smartphone over, “I've limited what you can do with it, but this is yours.”

“...I... why...” he was clearly feeling overwhelmed, ducking under his hair.

“Anything for you, Frodo.” Bilbo said gently, a sad little smile on his lips.

The nailpolish and phone fell from his fingers as he gasped, his eyes going wide as he looked up at Bilbo through the dark fringe of his hair.

“Uncle Bilbo?” he asked, his voice thin and waivery.

“My dear boy...” Bilbo whispered, and Frodo threw himself into his arms, whole body shaking with quiet sobs.

“We've got you.” Bilbo soothed, “We're here, we're here.”

Frodo pushed himself back eventually, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Uncle Bofur.” he said, turning to Bofur, who'd picked the nail polish and phone up and put them back on the dresser, standing back and watching.

Bofur wrapped him up in a brief hug, pushing him back to smile at him, “I'm so glad we finally found you.” he said.

“You've been _looking?”_ Frodo hardly looked like he could believe it.

“For _so many_ years.” Bilbo assured him, “ever since the day I remembered.”

Frodo's eyes widened, pulling back from Bofur to look at Bilbo with fear, “The ring?” he whispered.

“No!” Bilbo said sharply, “No... I... I _won't_ do that to you this time, I _swear_. We haven't found anything like that... no evil that needs to be countered... even Smaug was just a ruthless businessman this time around. We got Erebor from him without anyone being hurt.”

Frodo's narrow shoulders sagged with relief and he blinked a few times before something seemed to occur to him.

“So you mean Thorin and Fili and Kili _lived_?” he asked, eyes brightening with hope at the chance to meet people he'd only ever remembered as heroes from a story, and Bilbo nodded excitedly.

“and they can't _wait_ to meet you.”

.

They were halfway through a big Hobbit dinner – they'd been talking about the Company and Erebor and how they couldn't find Gandalf but suspected he was around _somewhere_ behind the scenes – when Frodo suddenly dropped his fork, staring out over the back garden.

“Where's Sam?” he asked, panic starting to creep into his voice, “Where's my _Sam?_ I can't... I can't do it alone, I _can't!”_

Bilbo reached over to grab his hand tight, “We'll _find_ Sam.” he promised, “We'll look for him, as long as it takes. We'll find him.”

Frodo squeezed his hand back.

“We'll find Sam.” Bilbo said it again, and Frodo nodded, squaring his shoulders.

“We'll find Sam.” He repeated.

It was what he needed to do.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for the Reincarnation AU.  
> I don't think I've got any more of these in me.  
> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> <3, Ts

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Arum Lindorm Drabbles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7147070) by [Daethesub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daethesub/pseuds/Daethesub)




End file.
